The Start of the End
by 66-Survivor
Summary: (Sequel to the Outsiders) One evening Jason Miller stumbled upon a book so similar to his current life that he sets off to find the characters despite his friend, Amanda Jackson's objections. Now that he's found them trouble is starting to stir in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Will the greasers be kicked from their city? Or will they be able to pull off another fight?


***five years after the deaths of Johnny Cade and Dally Winston***

***Sequel to _The Outsiders_ ***

I put down the book in shock, thinking nothing but the fact that I need to meet this man. He practically just wrote my situation in a single novel. Excited, I made my way through the rows and rows of bookshelves of Crestview Library. It was a fairly large library compared to the ones I've been to in the past. It was located on the corner of main street in Chicago between the small "Mister Donut" restaurant and "Mr. Poe's Goods". I dodged an older woman checking out a cooking book in the crafts section. I hastily made my way towards the front of the library where the computers were, clutching the book to my chest tightly.

When I had finally made it to the front after dodging a group of shouting kids running through the rows of shelves I spotted my only friend, Amanda, seated at a monitor towards the nearest door in case she had to hightail it. She was weird like that. But then again she's also been an orphan most of her life and has seen some pretty nasty stuff on the streets that has left some distinct scars. Both mental and physical.

I knew Amanda saw me rushing towards her because she jumped up to turn towards the door and her eyes were darting around the room attentatively. Wincing, I slowed my pace. I had forgotten that I wasn't supposed to walk fast, jog, or especially run towards her when there was nothing wrong, lest she'd bolt. I sheepishly approached her, rubbing the back of my neck, waiting for her to decide that there was no danger.

When she finally relaxed she turned toward me, her icy blue eyes flashing with irritation. "What is it now, Jason? You scared the living frak out of me!" she snapped

I cringed. "I know. I'm sorry, but I found this really good book that's based on real events that happened to this guy like us." I hesitated before carrying on. "And I was wondering if we could look him up." I finished quietly, staring down at my worn out tennis shoes.

After seven beats, I mustered the courage to look up at her. Just like every other time I introduce a new crazy idea Amanda had her arms folded and her right eyebrow cocked like, _Seriously? You're stupid._ But instead of immediately dissing the idea, her expression changed from irritation to curiosity.

"What book?" she asked, genuinely intrigued.

I tried to stifle the little sense of pride I had in my chest and presented the book. But I got a different reaction than the two I was expecting. Instead of laughing or agreeing with my idea, Amanda's eyes widened with shock and recognition-but only for a second. Then she acquired her usual expressionless face when she was hiding something from me. She stared at the cover for a second longer, and then turned away.

"We are not looking for the author, or any of the people in that book." she said, her voice brittle. I could feel my face fall with disappointment. She started to walk to the doors, her body stiff and determined.

"Why not?" inquired, following her outside onto the sidewalk. This time I was determined to get answers. Amanda had this way of somehow dodging every question I threw at her. She knows everything from my past. The age I was orphaned, my first time robbing a store, the abusive parents I had escaped from, and even the name of a stray dog I had temporarily befriended. But did I know anything about her? Other than the fact that her name is Amanda Jackson, she is an excellent thief, and she carries around two killer knives and knows how to use them- no. I did, however, manage to squeeze out of her that she had a rough childhood. But that took me three, out of the four years I've been with her.

"Because there are things you don't know about that book." she replied, not stopping or even looking over her shoulder. My pace slowed. This was the first time I had actually gotten a somewhat straightforward answer from Amanda, and I didn't know exactly what to do.

"Like what?" I challenged. I was pretty sure she had never even read the book, and this was just one of her ways to get me to admit that my idea was stupid.

"For starters, you have no idea what those events were actually like! Secondly, you don't know what happened _after_ he wrote the book. And lastly, we are _not_ chasing down some guy just because we can somewhat relate to him!" she raged and continued to storm onward through through a group of gawking people, her hands balled at her sides.

I stopped in my tracks and my chest tightened with anxiety. Amanda never yelled at me like this. She yells at me when I do something stupid and almost get both of us either killed or caught, or when I bring up a touchy subject from the past. But even the time I accidentally robbed a grocery store where two cops were in checkout, she never came close to this. Just like I knew she couldn't stand being in a place where she felt trapped or on the spot, she knew I couldn't stand being yelled at, or being anywhere near people verbally fighting. It gave me anxiety attacks.

Amanda stopped abruptly and whipped around, her eyes pained and remorseful. She sighed and walked towards me, the rigidness completely gone from her body. Amanda set her hand on my shoulder as I struggled for air. My body had gone completely stiff, my heart racing. After what seemed like forever, my body finally allowed me to take a single wheezy breath and slowly the tension left my muscles and my stomach, leaving me shaky and dizzy.

"I'm sorry, Jason." Amanda apologized, her voice dripping with sorrow.

"S-S'okay." I shakily replied.

"No, it's not." She sighed.

The sun was starting to set over the city of Chicago as we silently made our trek back to the "safe house". The safe house was an abandoned warehouse we used as a base camp. It was in a rough part of the city, away from the "protection" of the CPD, which was fine by me, since we weren't exactly popular with that particular group. It had a few broken windows, a loft type area where the rusty control panels to the machinery were located, a catwalk, and great insulation compared to some of the other places we've been in. The "safe house" has probably been the most welcoming place I've been to besides the library.

I started the fire as Amanda pulled out a loaf of partially flattened bread and a package of cheese slices that she had stolen from under the store manager's nose earlier in the week. She was really experienced in stuff like that. Hand to hand combat, thieving, smooth talking police to distract them from whatever I was doing in the background, even some acrobatics-you name it, she can do it. Well, except for anything that required being book smart or skilled with machinery. That was _my_ specialty. Oh-and lockpicking. Lockpicking always came in handy. We wouldn't be living in this warehouse if it weren't that skill. When I asked about it, she said some people taught her all of those professions

After our dinner of grilled cheese sandwiches we headed to our own sleeping area and settled into our sleeping bags for the night. Amanda always fell asleep right away but was extremely easy to wake with her "one eye open" habit. I, on the other hand, took forever to fall asleep. But once I was out, I was out.

I reached for the flashlight sitting next to me and pulled out the library book I was reading earlier. I studied its cover. _The Outsiders_ was a very true story, one I could relate to and read over and over again. I turned the cover and began reading again. " _When I stepped into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home…"_ By the time I reached chapter five my desperation to meet this gang grew strong enough for me to decide, after a while, that I needed to go find them.

I might have to leave Amanda, but I've wanted to find a family so bad for so long, and she's better off working by herself, not having to worry about what I'm doing. I laid there in the silence for a short while longer before packing up my sleeping bag, the extra switchblade, and some of the food in one of the cloth bags. I stood in the doorway to the warehouse, glanced back at the corner where Amanda was asleep, and crept out into the black, chilling night.

I walked down the streets for a while, unaware of where exactly I was going. But before long, I realized that I was heading to the library. _Of course._ _I'll look up the author._ I started to walk with more purpose than just a random "street rat" ambling down the sidewalk. Thankfully, the library was still open.

Of course, this didn't surprise me too much. The librarian, Mr. Krohn, was very friendly and very aware of some of the situations the kids of Chicago are in. So as long as we behave the library is open to us a full twenty-four hours. He was always in the library the full twenty-four hours, but he had a room in the back where he could sleep.

I walked in and sat at the monitor Amanda had used earlier that day. I logged in and immediately opened up the browser. I pulled the book from my dirty jean jacket, glanced at the cover then typed _Ponyboy Curtis Outsiders_ into the search tool. A million different things popped up, and it took me a while to find it, but eventually I found the location of the city the book took place in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I then, proceeded to look up freight train routes from chicago, passing Tulsa. _The BN route…_ Triumph filled me from my head to my toes. I returned the book to it's original spot before taking one last look at the my only safe place before meeting Amanda and walking out the doors.

I continued down the sidewalk, a new lightness in my steps. But after a while I started to get tired. My feet started to drag and it felt as if I were just walking in circles. Suddenly I heard a crash in the dark alley to my left. I nearly jumped out of my skin, but my hand instinctively moved towards my back jean pocket for the extra switch.

A group of buff, drunken wealths emerged from the shadows. There were ten of them, all tough looking, probably around nineteen, most likely football players in highschool or college. They all had evil grins on their faces. Well, all of them except for the guy in to the far left. He had a grim look on his face like he couldn't quite live with what they were about to do. Of course I was a little nervous. This was the first fight I'd been in without Amanda for four years, now I was jumping back into things solo as a wiry seventeen year old against a football team, and then we can't forget how I get bad anxiety attacks when there is any yelling or shouting involved.

But I'll never know how things turned out between the guys and I because just then Amanda jumped in from out of nowhere, teeth bared, and her two lovely double edged daggers in each hand. They way she wielded her daggers was different from any other person I've seen. She held her longer dagger, blade up, in her right hand like everyone else, but then she held her shorter one, blade down, in her left hand. The way she fights with them makes even the "pros" look like rookies.

I figured her jet black hair, black leather jacket, dark jeans, and black combat boots was what gave her the ability to move easily in the shadows without being noticed.

The "football team" has obviously heard from their buddies what happens when you cross Amanda either armed only with switches or bottles or hand to hand because their glassy eyes widened in slight fear. The guy on the left decided it would be a good time to run because that's exactly what he did. Without hesitation, he hightailed it outta there. Unfortunately, his buddies weren't as smart, but Amanda gave them some encouraging by swinging her bigger blade around.

"You guys, might wanna beat it before things get rough." She called out menacingly.

"I don't think sso, girrl." The front guy replied, his words badly slurred. His friends grunted in approval as he walked forward, his fists raised.

"Alright then." Amanda replied smoothly. "Guess I could use the practice. Not that you guys are on my level."

Now, a normal eighteen year old girl against a nineteen/twenty year old football player… Well, we all know how that would turn out, but Amanda easily dodged every blow he threw at her. And in the first five seconds the guy had earned himself a nice gash across his forearm. Amanda didn't cut very deep, she never does. But she does like to cut deep enough, at least once, to give her opponent a scar. She calls it her "little parting gift".

The guy bellowed in agony and held his arm. Typical wealth not able to take a little pain.

"Who's next?" Amanda asked sweetly, turning her attention to the rest of the group. The guys only backed up nervously.

"C'mon, Brian." a guy on the right called out. "Let's get outta here. These street rats ain't worth our energy."

Brian turned to Amanda one last time and snarled, but she didn't even flinch. She just stared him down as they walked away. Finally after they had disappeared out of sight, and Amanda was satisfied that they were gone she turned her attention to me.

"What were you thinking!" she hissed. I could tell by her tense posture, she was trying very hard not to yell. "Is it a new thing now to walk out on the streets past dark and try to get ourselves killed?" Her words were thick with fury, but I could see the worry and exasperation in her eyes. I looked past her and fixed my gaze on the closed bakery behind her, deciding it would be best to keep my mouth shut and let her let her emotions out.

She paced for a while before she finally stopped and sighed. I looked back to her again to see the fury had dispersed, leaving only exasperation. " _Honestly_ , Jason. What were you doing out here?"

"I.." I tried to think of a way to explain to her my plan without sounding ridiculous, but failed. So I just let the words flow. "Despite of what you think, I really want to meet these guys. It might sound ridiculous, but I want the chance of having some sort of a family again."I growled, embarrassed of admitting the truth. I met her eyes. They were a little softer, but filled with even more determination so I kept going before she could interrupt. "And, you aren't in charge of me. You can't tell me what I can and cannot do! If I want to take a train to Tulsa, Oklahoma, then I will! You can't tell me otherwise!" My heart was racing by the end of my "speech", because like I've said, I can't stand yelling.

Amanda stood there, studying me a while, swinging the blades around in her hands like she does when she's thinking. After, about five awkward moments she sighed and her sheathed her daggers.

"I know, I can't just give you orders and get mad whenever you disobey them because I'm not in charge of you. But…" she heaved painful sigh and studied the sidewalk. "I had a younger brother once.."

I stared at her in shock. This was the first time she's ever mentioned anything to me about her past.

"I loved him. And when our parents died, I desperately tried to take care of him. One day, in the middle of winter, I had made the shortsighted decision that it would be best if we split up and searched the dumpsters behind restaurants for any food…" her voice cracked. I watched her, words unable to form in my mind. I'd never seen her so close to tears.

"He was only seven." she whispered before taking a shaky breath and carrying on. "A group of socs cornered him on his way back to the rendezvous point. He never stood a chance…" A single tear slipped down her cheek. "I found him lying in the alley. A stab wound in his abdomen, so I knew the death wasn't instant."

We sat there in silence for a moment. "I lived on. Depressed. Cold. Bitter. Hateful. Until I ran into this group of greasers. They had just lost two very close friends, and I had just lost the rest of my family. They taught me how to defend myself, how to use smooth talking to my advantage, how to see past lies, and how to thieve without being caught. I had stolen these two daggers from the first store I had robbed, and for the first time, I felt like things would be alright. But they weren't. The socs, even though they stayed mostly out of the greaser territory, still picked on, injured, and killed greasers and orphans."

"So one night, I just decided to hightail it, without leaving a note. Just like you just did tonight. The only difference was that I actually got away, and you didn't" She finished with light teasing.

All of this at once, was a lot for me to take in. Greasers, socs, losing two friends. Suddenly everything clicked. The book, the fury when I told her I wanted to find them. She knew the greaser gang from _The Outsiders_ , she was a part of that gang once long ago, but not long enough ago to be a part of it. "So.." I started. Still barely grasping onto things. "You were a member of that gang?"

She huffed softly in amusement. "Yeah. They were so nice to me when they took me in. They didn't have to. I know, firsthand, how difficult it is to have another mouth to feed and another friend to protect. They were great. And I just left them. Gone. Without a trace.."

"That's why you don't want to go back." I concluded. The silence was all I needed to hear to know that I was spot on. I also realized, then, that I probably had met her right after she left them.

"But," she started carefully, "I suppose it wouldn't be kind of me to just disappear and not tell the guys how I've been the past few years.

My hope rose a little bit when I realized what she was hinting at. "So we're going to find them?"

"Yeah, I guess so." Amanda grinned. She reached into her pocket and pulled out the wad of cash that we use for emergencies. I looked up at her, puzzled.

"Well we're not walking there!" she laughed. We hiked over to the nearest train station and bought two tickets with our forty dollars, to Tulsa Oklahoma. It was nineteen hour ride and we didn't reach the station till nine pm the next evening.

Worn from the long train ride, Amanda and I stumbled down a series of roads and alleys. Each street dirtier than the next. One thing I noticed about Oklahoma was how warm it was compared to Illinois. The air was hot and humid, and it made my cotton shirt stick to my skin. Amanda's hair, which was braided down her back, was frizzy.

We didn't stop until we reached an empty lot. Amanda set her stuff down and walked to a giant bush. I stared at her as she reached into the bush and pulled out a beat up couch. "You can sleep on the couch. I always slept better on the ground anyways."

It suddenly came to me that this was the same lot Ponyboy and Johnny had slept on the night before the soc Bob was killed. I studied the couch for a moment before unrolling my sleeping bag and settling in. Like usual, Amanda was out instantly, but I studied a single star in the sky before drifting off.

When I woke the next morning, I found that Amanda was nowhere to be seen. Anxiety tightened in my chest. Had she run off? Did she decide she didn't want to see her old friends anymore? Then a white slip of paper on her neatly rolled up sleeping bag caught my eye.

 _Went to pickpocket some cash for breakfast._

 _Shouldn't take too long._

 _~A_

I sighed in relief, though the shakiness in my body took a minute to subside. I reached into the sack I had carried with me and pulled out some matches. I gathered a bunch of twigs together and walked back over to light the fire. I heard the snap of a twig and my head snapped up, looking for the one responsible for it. A group of guys in their twenties emerged from behind the bush. My heart rate spiked and I again reached for the switch in my back pocket, hoping Amanda would show up soon.

"Hey, what're you doin here?" The taller, leaner guy spoke up first.

"Just passing through." I called back, every muscle in my body tense.

"Well you're on greaser turf, pall. We don't like socs hangin out here." Movie star guy replied. I realized with dawning horror that they thought I was a wealth or a soc because of the disguises Amanda and I had worn to attract less attention. I was about to apologize and explain my getup when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Got a problem, boys?" Amanda shouted, her daggers in her hands, and the food on the ground. The gang stared past me in surprise.

"Amanda?" Sideburns called out. Both Amanda and the guys in the gang lowered their weapons.

"Hey fellas, long time, no see." Amanda said sheepishly. My eyes widened in surprise. Suddenly it hit me. The gang before me were the characters from _The Outsiders_.

* * *

 **That was the start of a fanfiction story I wrote for English. Kind of random but we had to come up with a second book to The Outsiders so I decided to pull in some new characters… Continue or naw?**


End file.
